


Reunited

by Taarbas



Category: Dragon Age - All Media Types
Genre: Death, Fade as afterlife type place, Happy Ending, M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-01-27
Updated: 2016-01-27
Packaged: 2018-05-16 15:43:20
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Major Character Death
Chapters: 1
Words: 943
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/5831308
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Taarbas/pseuds/Taarbas
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Seamus wakes up in the fade after his murder. Strangely, it is a perfect replica of the Wounded Coast...</p>
            </blockquote>





	Reunited

**Author's Note:**

> Last of the fics from my tumblr. First fic I posted for DA, I hope you enjoy it!

It is cold. He wasn’t sure what else he had expected it to be. A corpse is cold. Why should death be any different? He reaches his hand out, fingers brushing damp rock and skimming along what feels like a wall, occasionally finding bits of moss that tickle his fingers. He stands, and begins to walk. A sound, not unlike sand underfoot, reaches his ears, makes him pause, but doesn’t stop him. He keeps walking. Ahead, there is a light, a pale, grey light that feels welcoming in the darkness. He steps into a blast of icy air tinged with salt, and he can hear the sound of waves slapping sand. His eyes adjust, and a bitter smile forces its way onto his face. He approaches the waves, dipping his fingers into cold water that stings and swirls around his now numb fingers. He didn’t think a spirit could feel temperature. Maybe it’s just the cold. Maybe that’s all we can feel now. The thought is depressing. He had found he greatly enjoyed a certain heat, possessed by someone long gone now. With that thought comes a stinging in his eyes, and he scuffs the wet sand and bites his lip to keep from crying. The wind blows, and he shivers, wrapping his arms around himself. He pictures their little camp, the warm fire they would keep, and the tent furnished only with simple furs that they would climb underneath and curl together to ward off the chill. When he turns, he is not surprised to see it has materialized. He knew the fade played tricks on the mind, but he had assumed he would be okay when he died. Apparently not. Still, he reasoned, it’s better than nothing. He makes his way towards it, sitting on a log that doesn’t seem as damp as the others, and curls into himself, trying to keep warm, if he even can anymore. He stares out at the black water, and begins to imagine one hundred “what-if” scenarios in his head. If he hadn’t went to the coast on that fateful day. If he hadn’t tried to run. If he hadn’t met-. He cuts off the last thought with a shake of his head. A shiver racks him, and he stares at the rotting wood across from him, and imagines it catching fire, embers sparking and dancing and ashes settling in his hair and on his shoulders. It sparks almost immediately, creating a halo of light around the little camp, and for a moment he can pretend he’s back on the coast, and that nothing has gone to hell quite yet.  
He shakes his head and stands, makes his way to the fire and sticks his hands out in the hopes of warming him. The fire dances, but no heat makes its way to him. He frowns, shoving his hands into the heart of the fire, but he does not burn. No heat reaches him, and dejected, he pulls his hands away and settles for tucking them under his arms. His teeth begin to chatter, and all at once, everything hits him, and hard. Tears threaten to leak from his eyes, and he grits his teeth and makes a sound somewhere between a whimper and a moan as he fists his hair and shakes his head. The damp is soaking into his knees, and with a small whimper, he stands on shaky legs, a few tears escaping and making their way down his face. He begins to walk, hands still tucked under his arms. He follows the curve of the sea, though he doesn’t know why, and it isn’t long before he loses sight of the camp, and soon after he can’t even see the smoke from the fire. His teeth chatter and he sniffles, but still he walks, and walks, until he doesn’t know how long he’s been walking and his legs cramp and he whimpers once more as they give out and he hits his knees. What a pathetic sight I must make, he thought miserably. At least I’m giving the demons a good laugh. He waits just long enough for the feeling to return to his legs before standing and making his way again. He hasn’t seen anyone, or anything. Just endless sand, sea, and rock. He sighs, a heavy, pained sound very different from in life, and finds a semi dry rock to sit on. He buries his face in his hands, and he nearly jumps out of his skin when something warm suddenly touches his shoulder.  
"Kadan?“ The word sounds small, almost whispered, and Seamus’ head snaps up despite himself. He wets his lips and stands, shaking and almost to afraid to speak. Instead, he reaches out and gently touches the giant’s hand on his shoulder, feeling the warmth radiate into his palm. He feels tears prick his eyes, but this time he ignores them, instead stepping forwards and into the giant’s arms, burying his face in his chest like he had so many times before. Before the Winters came, before everything went to hell.  
"Kadan.” He whispers back, and stands on tiptoe. He knows Ashaad doesn’t kiss, but he can’t bring himself to stop as he slowly fits his mouth over the giant’s, who bows and returns the kiss with a fervor Seamus can’t seem to remember from life. As they part for air, he whispers, “I’ve missed you.” and before he can utter another word, Ashaad’s mouth seals over his and he cradles him to his larger chest, clawed fingers tangling in his hair. And for the first time since coming to this damnable place, Seamus feels warm again.


End file.
